34. Penelope
As soon as Nurse Dave confirms Tate’s worst fears that something’s wrong, my strong, athlete boyfriend crumples like a Kleenex. The trembling that was just in his hands now spreads to his arms and legs as he falls to his knees.
Dad takes the phone to get the pertinent details from Dave while I sink to my knees in front of Tate. He’s shutting down. His pale face somehow goes whiter, and his eyes glaze over as he retreats into himself.
We don’t know the extent of the damage, but Tate’s already decided the worst has happened.
“Tate.” My voice is harsh, but I need him to focus. “We’re going to the hospital, what do you need to bring?”
Nurse Dave didn’t give us details, but from the tone of his voice, he doesn’t want to give bad news over the phone but I don’t say that out loud. Tate’s already a wreck.
Tate stares at me wordlessly, so I guide him up off the floor and sit him on the couch. I make Oli sit with him so I can put a quick bag together before we head to the hospital. Snacks, bottles of water, and a charger that fits his phone are the only things he really needs. If it turns out he needs to stay overnight with his folks, Dad or Oli or one of the team can come back and get it.
Dad drives, Oli rides shotgun, I sit in the back holding Tate’s hand as he stares blankly out the window. I don’t think he sees anything we’re passing, he’s lost in his mind.
I’m glad I was able to get him to eat a sandwich, at least there’s something in his body.
As we drive, the radio provides a level of background noise that’s not intrusive, but the air is still heavy with anxious anticipation.
I message Eloise to get Apollo’s number, and drop him a quick message.
Me: Hi Apollo, it’s Penelope. Do you have a sec?
Apollo: What’s up?
Me: I’m on the way to Mercy with Tate. Something’s happened with his parents. Don’t know what or how serious. Will keep you posted.
Apollo: I’ll meet you at Mercy.
Me: No, no. It’s okay. I know you guys have a big shindig for Thanksgiving, and I don’t want to pull you away until I know what we’re dealing with. But I wanted to warn you, I might need you.
Me: Tate might need you.
Apollo: Regardless of who needs me, let me know. I’ll be there.
My hand shakes as I type. I need to be strong for Tate, I don’t know what lies ahead of him, but he’s already taking it badly.
And I also don’t know how much more he has left in the tank. The past six weeks have been tough on him as it is. He’s had to dig himself out of a dark space, and he’s done himself proud, but there’s only so much a person can take before they break.
With every mile that passes on our way to the hospital, guilt gnaws at my insides. For so long I craved vengeance, revenge, payback, whatever the right word is, I wanted it. I wanted Tate to suffer like I’d suffered, I wanted his dad to suffer like Dad suffered, their family to suffer like we suffered.
But now my stomach is tight, my throat is dry, and I want to take it back. I want to take back every single time I thought of something awful befalling them. I want to take it all back because I think this is bad, my gut says this is as bad as Tate seems to think it is, and I want to revoke every bad thought I’ve ever had toward the Myers family, and I want them to be okay.
The trudge through the emergency room is a blur of beeping machines, hurried bodies, and guiding Tate around people and things to get to where we need to be. We’re asked to take a seat before Nurse Dave comes and introduces himself to us.
He moves us somewhere quieter, away from the overwhelm of the ER and into what seems to be a family room.
“It’s never good when they pull you into a different room,” mumbles Oli, echoing what I was already starting to put together.
Giving someone privacy isn’t generally what you want in a hospital when you walk into a traumatic situation. You want them to greet you, tell you your family members are fine, and take you to them.
That’s not happening.
Nurse Dave waits with us until a doctor appears. While he talks, I watch Tate’s face, making sure he’s soaking in the information he’s being given.
Every now and then I glance in Dad”s direction to make sure he and Oli are still here too.
The doctor tells Tate his parents were in a fatal car accident, and from the way he says it, Tate’s parent or parents are the fatalities.
Tears blur my vision as my throat swells with emotion. I grip Tate’s hand with both of mine as I let the doctor finish saying what he needs to say.
“I’m sorry to inform you that your father didn’t make it. He passed away in the ambulance en route to the hospital.”
Tate’s pale face remains stoic, cold, emotionless, while thick hot tears race down my face dripping off my chin onto my shirt.
“Your mother is in our ICU on life support.”
Something inside me cracks.
When he goes on to explain to Tate that she has no brain activity, and they’re simply keeping her alive with a machine for him to say goodbye, that crack turns into a chasm deep inside my chest.
My heart can’t take it.
“Are you sure?” My voice sounds like I’ve guzzled sawdust all morning.
It’s a stupid question, they’re doctors, and they’ve gone to school for an awfully long time for some random college kid to question them, but since Tate’s staring damn near catatonically at the doctor, I have to ask. Someone has to ask.
Both the doctor and Nurse Dave nod slowly. “I’m sorry, but yes, we’re sure.”
They keep talking, but it’s hard to keep up. I try my best to take in the information because Tate’s going to need to be told it again, I can tell from the vacant expression on his face he’s not here.
I can only hope Dad’s making a mental note of whatever else they’re saying because I need to be here for Tate, he’s all that matters right now. I just don’t know what to do. Should I?—
“Can I see them?” Tate’s found his voice, but it doesn’t really sound like him, it’s distant, hollow, devoid of emotion.
“Absolutely. Dave will take you to see your parents.”
I wipe my cheeks, trying not to make a scene. Ultimately, this isn’t about me, this is about Tate, and he needs me to be strong whether he knows it or not. I don’t want to make this moment about me and my feelings, though it’s hard not to face the realization that Dad could have died when Tate’s Dad checked him on the ice. In fact, he could die at any moment, any of us could.
I lock eyes with Dad behind Tate, his face is creased with worry, his eyes weighted with sorrow. I want things to be better with him. If I needed the reminder that life is short, I guess I just got it. It’s time to make amends and forgive Dad before it’s too late.
Tears refill my eyes, and my jaw trembles. I have to pull it together. At some point Tate will come out of this auto-pilot haze he’s in, and he’ll need me. He will. He can’t walk around in this cloud of shock forever, it’ll wear off, it always does in the movies, and when it does, people break down.
The two men in front of us turn to the door, but Tate doesn’t move, he’s frozen in place. While he takes a moment, I whip my phone out and message Apollo.
Me: 9-1-1. It’s bad. Get here ASAP.
Tate might not want anyone here, but if he does, Apollo, their leader, the heart of their team is likely who he’d call. I think? I guess? I fucking hope. Because he’s who I’ve got.
When we step out of the family room, the man himself is already here. Apollo is leaning against the wall facing the door. One leg is bent, foot flat on the wall, arms folded, eyes full of sadness.
He knows.
He’s here, and he knows.
Apollo pushes off the wall and walks toward us. With me on one side of him, and Apollo on the other, Tate walks the endless corridor under fluorescent lights to say his final goodbye to his parents.